#like between those two the jazz is absolutely not my first pick for ‘chaotic’

[sonic-adventure-3]

it is kinda funny to me when ppl say things in the vein of “jazz is perfect to represent rouge because of it’s chaotic nature”, cause like sure, okay, i can understand why you’d say that, but that’s the kinda thing you say when you have not listened to any jazz at all.

jazz can seem chaotic, sure, but it seems odd to me to define the whole umbrella of jazz as chaotic when you absolutely have not listened to actually chaotic sounding jazz subgenres like bebop. i just generally extremely dislike the descriptor of “chaotic” for jazz because i think it’s fundamentally untrue, there is absolutely logic and order in jazz, it’s built upon a rich tradition. jazz can be complex, frantic, energetic, and is often improvisational, but i don’t think it’s chaotic.

also i think that suits rouge far better than actual chaos, cause rouge is absolutely a complex and logical person, she just acts first and foremost on her desires

[dameronology]

love in the time of p.t.a. meetings {marcus moreno} - 4/5

summary: after a few months of slightly chaotic bliss, you & marcus start to think about the next steps in your relationship. {series masterlist}

warnings: swearing 

this is up a little later than i wanted & i do apologise, i once again stayed up all night and i cannot recount a single thing i’ve done. enjoy!

- jazz

Things between you and Marcus quickly fell into a routine.

You kind of had to when you both had kids; their lives needed structure. Depended on it, in fact. It wasn’t long before both of your lives were entangled in more ways than one, mostly for the sake of Missy and Jack having security around them but also because things between you were so good. Neither of you were trying to rush by any means, but when it worked, it worked. You were both good at communicating with each other - not that many issues really cropped up - and you both understood that your children came first. Things progressed easily and naturally, and he made you feel secure enough that you didn’t have to question whether or not it was too good to be true. 

Five months had quickly passed and you were both comfortable. Marcus Moreno was your boyfriend and it wasn’t a big deal. Okay, it had been at first - especially the first time he planted a kiss on your lips in front of the minivan brigade - but now? It was normal. It felt like he’d always been there, and you took it as a good sign. You got on well with Missy, especially since she’d witnessed your spat with Carol and started to think the world of you, and Jack...well, he was obsessed with Marcus. You couldn’t blame the kid. 

‘Jack! Put the soup down!’ 

It was another one of those mornings. It was a Sunday, so you didn’t have to worry about getting up early for school or work but you’d been at Marcus’ till late the night before. You and Jack ended up spending a lot of time at his; there was a swimming pool and a big garden for Optimus Prime to run around in, so it tired both of your tiny spawns out, which worked in your favour.

 Even when the kid had spent four hours swimming last night, he’d still risen that morning at 6AM like Jesus Christ on the third day. You’d woken to find the kitchen covered in smashed eggs and ham, then your oven had broken and the toilet was blocked again. 

You’d been halfway through reversing the problem when you’d heard Jack shuffling in the kitchen. You were stood in the hallway, still in your pyjamas, with a toilet brush in one hand and the other balled up into a fist. 

‘Jack, the soup is about to-’

You paused mid-sentence, watching as the bowl he was trying to reach for toppled straight off of the counter. You’d only washed his hair ten minutes ago, and you might as well have not fucking bothered because it was now covered in chunky vegetable soup. And the Chewbacca onesie he loved so much? Trying to peel that off him for the next few hours to wash the Heinz out of it was going to be a whole task in itself. You’d only just been to the laundrette the day before, and you’d gotten to the point in life where having a place with its own washing machine was a sign of success. 

‘Mum, there’s soup in my hair.’

‘It’s okay.’ You took a moment to breath. ‘We are not going to cry.’

‘I’m not crying.’

‘Wasn’t talking to you, buddy.’ You rubbed your temples for a moment. ‘C’mon, let’s go hop in the bath.’

So much of parenting was just...stopping to breath. Stopping to take a moment to remind yourself that although your love for your child was unwavering and unconditional, you sometimes felt like screaming. All you’d done for the last five hours was go in circles, cleaning and lecturing and cleaning some more. It made you wish you were at work that day, because at least then you could have conversations with people that weren’t about what cheese they wanted for lunch or what cartoon they wanted to watch. 

‘I just had a bath.’ Jack muttered. 

‘Yeah well, you need another one.’ You took another deep breath. ‘I’ll be there in a minute-’

‘- I don’t want a bath!’

‘And I don’t want a kid that’s covered in soup!’ You shot back. ‘C’mon, buddy. Just do as I say, please?’

Your conversation was interrupted by a knock at the door. You frowned for a moment - you weren’t expecting anyone. There was no post on Sundays and you hadn’t seen your landlord since the day you’d moved in. Your nosey neighbour knocked sometimes, usually asking about the noise (he didn’t have kids, clearly) and you were this close to telling him to mind his own fucking business. 

‘I swear to god, if that’s David again, I am going to shove this can of soup up his - Marcus!’ You almost did a double take when you saw your boyfriend stood at the door - he really chose his times, didn’t he? You hadn’t even had time to put the fucking toilet brush down. ‘Hey.’ 

‘Hey, baby.’ He greeted you slowly, eyes slowly taking in your appearance (and not in a sexy way). ‘Were you not expecting me?’

‘Shit, did we have plans?’ Your eyes widened. 

‘No, but Jack called. He said you’d asked him to ask me to come over, but I realise half way through that sentence that starting with Jack called probably means you had no idea.’ He offered you a goofy smile. ‘He said that the sofa had exploded and that you needed help.’

There was a lot to unpack there. When had Jack done that? More to the point, when had he learnt to use the phone? How had he worked out your phone password? The kid couldn’t do up his own velcro and now he was a Russian hacker, apparently. 

‘Oh my god.’ You groaned. ‘I am so sorry. Things have been batshit here this morning and I’m sure he had my best interests in his weird little heart, but he made you come all this way-’

‘- Marcus!’ Speaking of the devil.

Jack pushed past you, wrapping his arms around Marcus’ waist. He leant down to pick him up, lifting him off the ground - albeit at a distance, due to Soupgate. 

‘Hey, buddy.’ He greeted him. ‘You been causing trouble again?’

‘Not on purpose.’ Jack replied. ‘Mum says I need another bath.’

‘I think she’s right.’ Marcus said. ‘Why don’t you go pick out some clothes and come back in a minute, yeah?’

‘Okay!’ Seemingly impressed by the newfound trust in him to choose an outfit, Jack wriggled himself back down to the floor, trotting towards his bedroom. Seriously, how did Marcus do that? Perhaps his ability to have authority over your archaic child was another hidden power of his. 

‘You look like you need a break, baby.’ He reached out, gently running a hand down your arm.

‘I’m fine, he’s just been a lot today.’ You sighed.

‘You have soup on your shirt and fluff in your hair.’

‘Couch stuffing.’

‘Huh?’

‘It’s couch stuffing. Except that was Optimus Prime and not Jack, which makes a nice change.’ You muttered.

‘Look, Missy is at her abuela’s today and she’s been begging for ages to see Jack again.’ He said. ‘What d’you say I drive him over there, you clean up and we hang out? Just us, no kids, no dogs, no stress.’

‘That sounds like a fucking dream.’ You couldn’t help but smile. ‘But Optimus has consumed half the couch and I gotta keep an eye on him-’

‘-we can bring him with us!’ Marcus grinned. ‘He loves the garden.’

‘Are you sure? Because I remember you saying you had work plans today and I don’t want you to cancel them on account for the fact I can’t control my own kid. Or life.’

‘You two come first.’ He said it as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. ‘Three, including Optimus Prime.’

--

In the time it took Marcus to drive Jack to his mum’s and get back to yours, you were able to clean up. The apartment was still a state, but it hadn’t been properly tidy in...how many days had it been since Jack was born? Because it hadn’t been clean in exactly that many days. You felt a little bad dumping him on Anita when he was still covered in soup, but if anyone was able to wrestle him into the bath and some clean clothes, it was her. You’d met her a few times and she was absolutely lovely, but you had no doubt she could be terrifying when need be. She was the sort of woman you aspired to be.

By midday, you were driving out the city. There was music playing quietly over the radio and you were watching the houses go by; even though it was cold out, you had the heater on and you were bundled up in a leather jacket, Marcus’ scarf snugly around your neck. It smelt faintly of his aftershave, which had become one of your favourite scents over the last five months. The time had gone so quickly. You’d seen each other practically every day since then, and having the kids meant you’d been fallen into being domestic pretty quickly. The simplicity of it all - him and you and getting to this point so easily - was overwhelming in itself. 

Your first relationship had been so complicated - so finicky and filled with unnecessary arguments. That should have been a sign early on, but then you’d gotten pregnant with Jack and getting married had seemed like the obvious thing to do. His presence meant you wouldn’t have changed anything, not for the entire fucking world, but it made you a little sad to think about how long you’d wasted on what had clearly been the wrong person. Meanwhile, Marcus’ situation had been entirely different; he’d had the right person the first time around and then he’d lost them. You never felt like a replacement to his wife, or even thought about the notion, really. That had been another part of his life. You were a new part and it didn’t mean he was forgetting the past. The two could co-exist without taking away from each other. 

‘You’re deep in thought.’ Marcus observed. He moved one of his hands to rest on your leg, giving it a light squeeze. He did that a lot, usually whenever you were sat beside him at the table or on the sofa. It was just a him thing. 

‘Yeah, sorry.’ You tore your gaze away from the window. ‘My brain always goes a little into overdrive when things are quiet.’

He chuckled. ‘What’s on your mind?’

‘You, actually.’ You tangled your fingers with his, thumb brushing over the back of his hand. ‘I was just thinking about lucky I am and how good things are, and how it almost feels too good to be true.’

‘Better believe it, baby.’ He replied. ‘Because it is true.’

‘I know.’ You peered over at him with a smile. ‘It’s just...my only perceptions of relationships were based on the single one I’ve had. Everything was so complicated and exhausting. This is completely different and it’s so nice. And normal. And I don’t know, that sounds stupid-’

‘- it’s not stupid at all.’ Marcus peered over at you, shaking his head. ‘It’s natural to be a little apprehensive after a bad relationship and if there’s anything I can do to help, you just have to tell me. You know that, right?’

Maybe it was the way he said it, or maybe it was just him, but you knew for certain that he meant that. There was sort of a silent agreement now that you were both in this for the long haul. Your mum had always said that you’ll know when you know but you’d always written that off. Mostly because you hadn’t known the first time round. But, now you did. You did know and though you weren’t going to admit that to Marcus, you never doubted him for a second. 

‘I do.’ You said. ‘But he’s in the past now - and hopefully it’s where he fucking stays.’

‘I have contacts. I can find him and set Miracle Guy on him.’ Marcus’ grin had returned. ‘Just say the word.’

‘You make a tempting offer.’ You smiled back at him. ‘But the past is the past and I’m ready to...slam the lid on that dumpster.’

‘Do you think he’ll ever want to come back into Jack’s life?’

You pondered for a moment. ‘I don’t think so, but if he did, I dunno if I’d let him. I never wanna be the person who stops someone from seeing their kids but what he did was...it was unforgivable.’

‘You don’t have to make that decision until it actually happens.’ Marcus gently said. ‘And I’ll support whatever you choose.’

He pulled into the drive way of his house - his nice, clean, sofa-stuffing-and-soup free house. Optimus Prime leapt out the car as soon as the door was open, practically tearing past the two of you and down towards the yard. There was a moment of silence and then a splash!

‘Guess he found the pool.’ Marcus commented. ‘At least it’s heated, I s’pose.’

Truth be told, he loved having the three of you at his house. It felt like whatever had been missing before was slowly making an appearance as your relationship progressed. The irony was that you brought nothing but chaos and clutter with you, but that was exactly what made it feel like a home. It was small things; the painting that Jack had done for him at after school club was now hung up up on the fridge, and there was a photo of him and Missy on the fireplace with Optimus Prime. Half of the thousands of blankets of pillows that had been at your place had ended up on his sofa, thanks to the countless sleepovers. 

If he could have it his way, Marcus would have you live with here all the time. The energy that you and Jack brought made everything feel complete. He loved the evenings where Missy and Jack would play out in the pool, and you two would sit back inside, complaining about the cold. Then there were the nights where you’d take both the kids back here when he was working late, and he’d come home to find you piled on the couch watching an old movie, with your burnt cooking abandoned on the stove, surrounded by boxes of left over take out. It was the kind of thing that was so simple and so domestic, but it was everything he wanted. 

That was probably the flashpoint moment when Marcus Moreno realised he wanted to spend the rest of his life with you. He already knew he loved you - he’d worked that out about three months in, when you’d fallen asleep in one of his shirts whilst trying to wait up for him - but he hadn’t said it. He’d hinted at it and made back-handed comments but he’d barely admitted it to himself, let alone to anyone else. He knew what you and Jack had gone through before and it broke his entire fucking heart. You both deserved someone who stand by you and support you, someone who would embrace you both for the craziness and warm energy you brought everywhere with you. More than ever, he was realising he wanted to be that person who gave it you. After all, you’d made his life so much brighter without even trying.

Snapping out of his trance, Marcus looked over at you. You’d already ditched your shoes and dropped onto the sofa, pulling one of the blankets with you. This was exactly what you needed. A quiet house, your favourite person and a cable knit blanket. 

‘Hey, baby?’ 

You looked over at him, smiling at the name. ‘Yeah?’

‘You know I love you, right?’

You blinked in surprise, sitting up. ‘I know.’

‘You do?’

‘You’ve never said it, but I can tell.’ You nodded, before offering a smile. ‘And I love you too.’

‘I’m sorry I didn’t say it sooner.’ He slowly approached you, dropping onto the sofa beside you and taking your hands in his. ‘I think I just got so caught up in everything and feeling everything that I forgot.’

‘Why are you apologising?’ You couldn’t help but scoff at him, leaning forward to press a kiss to his lips. ‘It’s your actions that say it, Marc. Hearing it is good but you showed it a long time ago.’

‘I know, but really you deserve to hear it everyday.’ He smiled against you, helping you move onto his lap. 

‘You do tell me everyday, with the things you do.’ You reminded him. ‘Like meeting me in the parking lot with coffee, or bribing Jack into going to bed early with video messages from your superheroes, or doing my grocery shopping when you know money is short.’

‘Why wouldn’t I do those things?’ Marcus seemed genuinely confused. ‘It’s you.’

‘I love you.’ You repeated the phrase. 

‘And I love you.’

He pulled you into another kiss - this time it was a little firmer, not unlike your second declaration of love. Marcus did all those things without thinking, simply out of his intense want for you to just be happy. He was the same with Missy, always doing little things to make her life easier just because. It was just part of who he was, and it made him happy to see his loved ones happy. 

With your body pressed against his and your hands tangled in your hair, Marcus realised he didn’t want you to ever leave again. He didn’t want you to have to drive home in the dark at ten because all of your stuff was on the other side of town. You did stay over sometimes, but then you’d have to creep out at 6AM with a sleeping Jack in your arms to get home in time to get ready. He wanted you here all the time. You should have been here all the time. 

‘Move in with me?’ 

He both did and didn’t mean to say it out loud. He did because he wanted you so badly to be a permanent fixture in the house, but he also didn’t because the idea might have been a little absurd. Was it too soon? What if you didn’t want to leave your place? He knew you loved your apartment. It was your home and had been for a long time.

‘What?!’ You suddenly pulled back from the kiss, eyes wide. 

‘I mean...if you want to.’ Marcus slowly said. ‘Hell, Missy and I can move to your place if that’s what you want. It might be tight but she loves the dog and I just want to be with you-’

‘- hey!’ You cut him off, planting your hands on his shoulders. ‘You’re rambling again, but that’s besides the point. I would love to live here.’

‘You would?’

‘I would.’ You smiled. 

It made sense. Aside from the glaringly obvious fact you wanted to, it was also practical. It was closer to the school, closer to your work and it had a fucking swimming pool. Marcus was already clearly financially secure and moving in wouldn’t mean relying on him, but it would have meant that things for Jack were a lot more stable. Missy loved the company of you both, and it meant she would finally have the dog she wanted so bad. 

‘Missy would be okay with it, right?’ You asked.

‘She was the one who put the idea in my head, actually.’ Marcus admitted. ‘I’d thought about it but then she kind of asked in passing why you don’t live here, and I couldn’t give her an answer.’

‘Your kid is smart.’

‘D’you think Jack will-’

‘- I’m going to stop you there.’ You cut him off.

‘Right, I probably don’t need to ask that question.’ He chuckled.

‘Exactly.’ You pressed a kiss to his nose. ‘Don’t forget the dog, either.’

‘How could I? I can literally see him peeing on my lawn right now.’

‘Our lawn.’

--

Exactly three weeks later - and after a hefty amount of paperwork and hours of sorting through Jack’s endless amounts of crap that he insisted on hoarding - moving day came. 

Anita had insisted on having the kids again. They were both excited, but perhaps a little too much. They were probably more likely to get in the way of things if anything. Children, a dog and large boxes? It seemed like a match made in hell. Plus, she had a whole ass training course in her back garden and if that didn’t wear the kid out, then you were definitely going to take him to the Heroics to get tested. The thought alone was enough to tire you out. 

You didn’t have too much stuff to move. You’d been half-moved into the damn place before Marcus had even made the formal proposal, so that made things a lot easier. You were keeping your sofa for Jack’s room, but the rest was going to Goodwill. Most of it had come from there in the first place.

‘I think that’s the last box.’ Marcus announced, exiting the bedroom. ‘I didn’t realise that a five year could own so many variations of storm-trooper toys.’

‘Oh, yeah.’ You replied. ‘There’s the original trilogy ones, sequel trilogy ones, dark troopers, shock troopers, clone troopers - and I realise half way through listing them that you don’t care.’

‘I never said that!’ He placed his hands on your waist, pressing a kiss to your forehead. ‘I’m excited to learn.’

‘I’m sure Jack is excited to tell you.’ You grinned. 

Then, it faltered slightly with the realisation you were actually leaving this place. You’d never intended for it to be your permanent home, but it had still been the centre of your entire universe for half a decade. Every room told a story; the crayon marks on the bathroom wall, the dents behind the TV from, the crack in the living room mirror. All caused by Jack, naturally. The last five years was contained entirely within these four walls and you got bleary eyed at the idea of it becoming someone else’s. 

‘Hey, don’t cry.’ Marcus gently wiped away a tear from your cheek. 

‘You know, the rent is still paid till the end of the month so we could revisit the idea of you and Missy living here instead.’ You tearfully smiled. 

‘You’re kidding but you know I’ll do it.’ He pressed another kiss to your nose, grip on your arms tightening. 

‘It’s okay.’ You moved so that the kiss landed on your mouth instead, capturing his lips in a brief kiss. ‘I knew we were gonna outgrow this place. I just didn’t expect it to be so soon.’

‘I know. Still kinda feels like it all came out of no-where, huh?’ He replied. ‘In the best way.’

‘You’re right. In the best way.’ You firmly nodded. ‘Can you believe I was 23 when I moved into this place? I found it on Craiglist within ten minutes of finding out I was pregnant.’

‘Do you wanna take a minute before we go?’

‘No, it’s fine.’ You shook your head. ‘We should get going.’

The apartment was just that: an apartment. And the house you were going to was just that: a house. But the people you were with? That’s what made it count. It wasn’t about the four walls or the roof over your head, or whether or not it had a big yard and a jacuzzi bath tub (though, that did help). It was about the laughter and warmth inside; the faces in the photos on the wall and the people you came home to after a long day. It was the smell of your burnt cooking and the pizza you’d ordered in place. It was Jack’s toys left in the exact place where someone could trip and it was Missy using all the hot water in the morning so that Marcus’ showers were practically arctic. It was everyday things that reminded you of the people around you; the people that made it home, and how lucky you were to have them.

That was home. And you’d found yours. 

taglist: @naivara-duneimith @1-2-3-4-5metalfingers @likeshootingstarsinthenightsky​ @lyanna-the-giantsbane @phoenixhalliwell @crazycookiecrumbles​ @bitchin-beskar​ @comphersjost

[chickwiththepurpleguitar]

It is I, here to Officially Request™ absolutely chaos All Named Characters Molina Family Board Game Night because honestly? The chaos needs to be freed.

THERE'S SO MUCH CHAOS I'M NOT SORRY.

Have the official sequel to this fic because when @screamin-amuseum requested the first part as "the whole gang + boardgame" I took that to mean All Named Characters playing board games and so here's that continuation. It's so unnecessarily long. It's so unnecessarily angsty??? TW for mentions of Trevor with an eating disorder, nothing graphic though.

I don't know what else to say. This is really chaotic. I can't write scenes with more than two people in them and yet this fic has 13. Hope you all enjoy.

Read on ao3 here:

--

Unfortunately, the Molinas’ extensive board game collection does not actually include Pretty Pretty Princess (it was just a tad bit before Julie’s time).

But on the bright side, she knows someone they can borrow it from. Even if Luke’s not happy about it.

“Why’d you have to invite him?” he complains the second Julie gets off the phone with Nick.

“Because—” Julie barely spares Luke a glance as she passes him on the way to the living room. “We’re borrowing his little sister’s board game.”

“So? That doesn’t mean he has to play it with us!”

Julie rolls her eyes. “Luke, are you seriously still jealous of him?”

Luke lets out an indignant squawk. “I am not jealous . I just don’t like him!” He poofs out and back in again to cut Julie off in the doorway, and she stops out of instinct, never quite sure these days if she’ll end up walking through the boys or into them. “Julie, in case you’ve forgotten, we’re talking about a kid who was literally possessed by Caleb five minutes ago. And you want us to hang out with him? You want to bring him into your house? Where you live? To play Pretty Pretty Princess? ”

Julie gives him the most exasperated look she can muster, trying to ignore the smile threatening to tug at her lips. “Luke. First of all, Nick’s already been to my house, so that argument is invalid. Second, he’s not possessed by Caleb anymore, and the fact that he used to be is only more reason for us to offer him some extra friendship, I’m sure he needs it. And third, I already invited him, he’s on his way, and not even your pouting and puppy dog eyes can change that, so don’t even bother trying.”

Of course, Luke immediately breaks out the pout and the puppy dog eyes, but Julie doesn’t let herself so much as look at him. She pushes past him and continues through to the kitchen, shaking her head in amusement as Luke’s annoyed grumbling fades out behind her.

Her dad’s at the kitchen counter, just hanging up his own phone. He turns when Julie enters and offers her a small smile. “Takeout’s on its way. And your tía’s coming, with her own set of dice, so be prepared for those to be loaded.”

Julie giggles. “Well, I called Flynn and they’re gonna bring some sodas and snacks, and Nick’s bringing Pretty Pretty Princess since the boys were so excited to play it. It’s still cool that he comes, too, right?”

“Of course, mija.” Her dad looks at her for a second, and then away, busies himself with wiping down the perfectly-clean counter. “Did you, uh… Did you maybe want to invite Carrie to join us?”

Julie sighs. “Dad, you know me and Carrie aren’t friends anymore.”

“No, yeah, I know.” He scrubs harder at an invisible speck of dirt. “I just thought it might be a nice gesture.”

Despite everything, Julie finds herself considering it. Sure, she and Carrie are still decidedly not friends , but… they’re not quite enemies anymore, either. It’s hard to be enemies with someone who helped you save your shared ex-love interest from an evil jazz-singing magician ghost. Carrie knows about the guys now and didn’t expose Julie and the Phantoms as a fraud, and she hasn’t been as actively mean to Julie and Flynn at school the past few months.

Maybe someday, the three of them will be able to reconcile, officially. Julie might even want to. But that doesn’t mean she’s ready to have Carrie in her house so soon, doesn’t mean she wants to include Carrie in their first family game night without her mom.

“Maybe another time,” she says, offering her dad a soft smile so he knows she means it.

He smiles back, and there’s more relief and happiness in his eyes than Julie would’ve expected under the circumstances, leaving Julie to wonder why her dad would care about her relationship with Carrie Wilson so much.

An hour later, everything’s all set up, and all the guests—ghost and human alike—have arrived. They’re all spread out across the various couches and floor space in Julie’s living room, all ten of them—Julie, her dad, Carlos, Tía Victoria, Luke, Alex, Reggie, Willie, Flynn, and Nick. The four ghosts are all sharing one couch, the four Molinas another, while Flynn and Nick lounge on the floor across the room because the ghosts still make Nick a little uncomfortable (though Julie’s unsure if that’s because of his stint with Caleb or because Luke won’t stop glaring at him).

Knowing Game Night, the seating arrangements won’t stay as they are for long, as the various games require space or privacy or the occasional team-up. Julie’s certain by the end of the night, her friends and family will all be mingling and getting along.

Since there are so many of them, they can’t follow the usual Game Night rules—everyone picks one game and they play through them all. If they tried, they’d be here all night, and half of them have to go to school tomorrow. So instead, the plan is this: Everyone’s name will go in a hat. Whoever wins each game picks a name out of the hat, and that person gets to pick the next game. They’ll play a total of five, or until midnight, whichever comes first.

The only caveat to this strategy is that they’re playing Pretty Pretty Princess first, and since that was technically Alex’s choice, his name’s not going in the hat (a fact Alex seems perfectly fine with).

Game Number One isn’t nearly as much of a disaster as Julie kind of expected it to be. It’s only a four player game, so they play in teams of two and three: Luke, Reggie, and Julie playing for the purple jewelry; Alex, Willie, and Flynn playing for the pink; Nick and Carlos for green; and Dad and Tía for blue. The only fight that breaks out is when Luke takes the black ring on purpose and then refuses to put it back the next turn; otherwise, the teams work together surprisingly well.

Somehow, despite Reggie’s earlier insistence that Alex is a PPP master, the adults win, and then they insist on splitting their winning jewelry between them even though it’s all sized to fit five-year-olds.

Just as Dad and Tía are celebrating their victory, and Julie and Carlos are having a telepathic brother-sister conversation about how their aunt must have rigged it, the doorbell rings.

“Ooh, I bet that’s the pizza,” Dad says, hauling himself to his feet. He keeps one hand on the tiny plastic crown on his head so it doesn’t fall off.

He looks ridiculous, between the crown, the singular clip-on earring, and the ring just barely stuck on the end of his pinky finger, but Julie manages to hold back her laughter as she stands and says, “I’ll help carry.”

Her dad beats her to the door, only because Reggie holds her back and tries to convince her not to let Luke have any pizza (to which Luke gives another indignant squawk and immediately starts bickering), so by the time Julie catches up with him, Dad’s already got the front door thrown open, and whatever’s on the porch to greet him has left him staring, wide-eyed, open-mouthed, and pale.

Like he’s seen a ghost or something.

“Dad?” Julie starts to say, but the word dies in her throat as she steps into view of the open door and sees none other than Carrie Wilson standing on her front porch.

Carrie looks nervous, and just as pale, as she stares back at Julie’s father, a clutch purse held in her white-knuckled hands.

Carrie says something, quietly enough that Julie thinks she might have imagined it, that sounds suspiciously like, “Hi, Papi,” and then her gaze flits behind him to Julie and her eyes widen. She clears her throat, straightens her shoulders, says louder, “Mr. Molina. Julie.”

“Hi, Carrie,” Dad says after a weirdly long pause, startling like he’s been struck. “What are—I didn’t—” He breaks off and glances at Julie over his shoulder, his expression screaming, I thought you weren’t going to invite her!

I didn’t! Julie shoots back, then trains a painfully plastic smile on her definitely-not-a-friend-but-not-quite-an-enemy. “Carrie, what are you doing here?”

“Sorry to interrupt, I—didn’t realize you had company…” She glances toward the driveway next to the house, where Nick parked his car. “I can leave.”

“No, don’t—It’s okay,” Dad assures her, a little too quickly for Julie’s liking. “What’s—did you need something?”

Carrie shifts her weight awkwardly from foot to foot, looking back and forth between Julie and her dad like she wants to ask Julie to give them some privacy. Julie just plants her feet and crosses her arms over her chest. Like hell is she gonna leave Carrie alone with her dad when he’s already acting weird and she still has yet to tell them what she’s doing there.

Julie doesn’t even remember the last time Carrie Wilson stepped foot on the Molinas’ property. It’s all too weird, like Julie’s stepped out of Family Game Night and into some strange, confusing alternate universe.

“Um… Okay, so, Dad and I were at this dumb charity event at Schaefer’s, and on the way back, our car broke down.” Carrie waves a vague hand toward the street. “Gerald—our driver—called someone, but Dad doesn’t trust mechanics, and I think it’s supposed to storm later, so…” She trails off, blushes, and adds, “We were only a block or so away so I thought…”

Julie’s not sure she’s following. Her dad must catch up quicker because he says, “Oh! Oh, well—well, you’re welcome to wait out the storm here, we’ve got food coming, we’re having a little game night. Why don’t you join us?”

He turns to look at Julie, almost as an afterthought, his gaze somehow pleading and apologetic at the same time.

Whatever frustration Julie might feel at his eagerness to let Carrie interfere with their lives despite knowing how Julie feels about her is quickly snuffed out by the look on her dad’s face, and the equally anxious look on Carrie’s.

Julie doesn’t like this. She doesn’t think putting her, Flynn, Nick, and Carrie in a competitive setting together is a good idea. She really doesn’t think putting Luke, Alex, Reggie, and Trevor Wilson in a competitive setting together is a good idea. She can think of very few scenarios in which this whole night doesn’t turn into a complete and total disaster.

But reconciliation has to start somewhere, and she does, deep down, want to be Carrie’s friend again someday, wants even more to help her boys get their bandmate back.

She takes a slow, deep breath, prays she won’t regret this, and says, “Of course, Carrie. Come join us for Game Night.”

Carrie visibly relaxes, something like a real, genuine smile fluttering around her lips. “Okay. Thanks. I’ll, um—I’ll go get Dad. He wanted to wait in the car, in case you guys… turned us away…”

Awkward silence falls, and Julie can’t understand why her dad looks so sad all of a sudden, but before she can think of how to ask, Carrie spins on her high heels and starts back down the porch steps.

The second the door closes behind her, Dad says, “I’m sorry, did I overstep?”

Julie sighs. Her dad’s always been particularly good with boundaries. And she thinks part of him might miss the days when Carrie was over more often than not, playing dolls and singing with Julie and Flynn. So Julie can’t be mad. “No, it’s okay. But you get to tell the guys the pizza’s not here yet, and the guy who stole all their songs is.”

His eyes widen in horror, only adding to the absurdity of his bejeweled look, and Julie stifles another laugh as she heads back to the living room.

All things considered, it’s not nearly as much of a trainwreck as Julie thought it might be. Flynn loudly declares that she will not be on a team with Carrie under any circumstances, and the guys don’t take the Trevor news well , exactly, but a sharp look from Julie and a badly whispered promise from Willie to do some serious ghost pranking later keep them from actively pitching a fit about it.

When the Wilsons and their driver Gerald arrive, the tension in the room grows so instantly thick and awkward that Julie’s worried someone might actually explode. Carrie breaks it by stalking confidently into the room and plopping herself on the floor between Nick and Carlos like she belongs there. Gerald soon follows, claiming a chair next to Tía Victoria, and smiles politely at them all.

Only Trevor remains hovering in the doorway, pale and shaky, taking deep meditative breaths as his eyes rove across each person one at a time, lingering a little too long on Julie’s aunt, skipping over Luke entirely. Finally, he swallows, winces like it hurts, and says to Julie’s dad, “I didn’t realize you still did these.”

Julie frowns, unsure what that’s supposed to mean exactly, but her dad offers up no explanation, just waves Trevor over to sit on the couch with him. Luke lays a gentle hand on Julie’s knee, leans in close to whisper, “Hey. You okay?”

She gives him a grateful smile, nods. “Fine. How about you?”

Luke shrugs, glances over at Trevor, who’s still very purposefully not looking in their direction, and winks at Julie. “Let’s just cream this guy, shall we?”

And so, Game Night continues.

The three new guests’ names get added to the hat, and Victoria shuffles them around before pulling a slip of paper out.

“Carrie,” she reads. “You get to pick the next game.”

“Oh, no, that’s okay,” Carrie tries. “I just got here, someone else can pick.”

“Come on, Care,” Nick says, nudging her encouragingly. “Them’s the rules.”

“Your name came out of the hat,” Julie agrees, attempting a smile. It’s the closest she can get to a peace offering. “Pick a game.”

Carrie scans her face a moment, like she’s searching for any hint that Julie’s being mean or ingenuine. She must not find any, because she says, “Okay,” and gets to her feet, brushing invisible dust off her skirt. She peers into the game cabinet for a total of about five seconds before she says, “Oh my god, you still have Monopoly with the credit card readers? We are definitely playing that.”

“Dibs on banker!” Carlos shouts and jumps to his feet to dig the box out of the cabinet.

Julie grins at her little brother’s enthusiasm, and when she catches Carrie’s eye, her smile doesn’t fade.

Maybe they can do this. It’s as good a first step toward reconciliation as any, she supposes.

The pizza arrives while Carrie and Carlos are setting up the Monopoly board, so Julie and her dad bring it in and set up the stack of boxes on the kitchen island for easy access. The ghosts immediately descend on the food like a pack of rabid animals, Luke grabbing four or five slices at once and starting to stuff them in his mouth before Julie shouts, “Plates, boys! Plates!” and he deflates, grinning bashfully at her.

Once everyone who wants pizza has gotten some (Gerald takes a slice, Trevor and Carrie don’t—Julie remembers vaguely that the Wilsons were never big fans of take-out in general), they work out new teams, which leads to less bloodshed than Julie expected but takes way longer than it has any right to. Finally, they figure out a breakdown that everyone’s more or less happy with, despite now having an uneven number of players: Trevor, Gerald, Dad, and Tía; Carlos, Luke, and Reggie; Alex, Willie, and Flynn; and Carrie, Nick, and Julie.

It’s a chaotic game for sure, but no one outright attacks each other, so Julie counts it as a success. And her team wins, so.

The rest of the night goes like that, one game after another. Julie picks Willie’s name, Willie picks Mario Kart, Carlos wins. Carlos picks Gerald’s name, Gerald picks poker (“Oh my god, my driver’s a gambler,” Trevor sighs into his hands), and somehow Flynn smokes them all. For the last game, Flynn picks Luke’s name, Luke picks Candy Land because he’s actually eight years old, and Flynn and Carrie manage to eke out a victory despite being on the same team and bickering the entire game.

Luke and Trevor, also on the same team, don’t say a single word to each other, but Julie doesn’t miss how a smile tugs at Luke’s lips when Trevor makes a joke about Lord Licorice looking like their high school English teacher.

Gerald gets a call just as they’re finishing up and informs them that the broken down limo’s been towed away and one of his colleagues is there with a fresh car to take the Wilsons home.

“Perfect timing,” Dad says, clapping his hands together. “I’ll walk you out.”

Once they’re gone, Nick and Flynn soon follow. Julie thanks Nick profusely for letting them borrow his sister’s game and convinces him to take some of the leftover pizza home to his family. Tía kisses them all goodnight (including the ghosts, which leaves Reggie grinning and the rest of them bright red), and then she’s out the door too, and Carlos heads up to bed, and Willie poofs out, telling Alex they’ll catch him later, leaving just Julie alone with her Phantoms.

“That was actually really fun,” she says, leaning back into the couch.

“Next time, I think we should choose teams at the beginning and stick with them all night,” Luke suggests, slinging an arm around her shoulders. “More fun that way.”

Alex plops onto the couch on Luke’s other side. “But if we play Pretty Pretty Princess again, I’m not playing on your team, bro.”

“Yeah, man,” Reggie agrees, snuggling up under Julie’s arm. “We coulda won that game if you’d just put the black ring away. ”

“It made me look awesome!” Luke insists.

“And the purple one didn’t?”

Alex lets out a dramatic sigh as Luke and Reggie break into an argument over Julie’s head. She just rolls her eyes and tries not to giggle too audibly, though it’s hard when her boys are so lovingly silly.

When she looks up, her dad’s lingering in the doorway, watching the four of them and playing a little nervously with his hands.

Julie frowns, catches his gaze, and mouths, You okay?

He nods, smiles, but looks from her to the three ghost boys cuddled up next to her and back again. Julie instantly catches his meaning.

“Hey, guys,” she says, loud enough to be heard over Luke and Reggie’s bickering. They shut up right away. “I’m gonna help my dad clean up. Can you go wait in the studio for me, and we can rehearse a bit before I go to bed?”

“Oh, yeah,” the boys say, and “Yeah, sure, Julie,” and they all hug her and wave goodnight to her dad before disappearing with a gentle displacement of air.

Julie gets to her feet as her dad joins her in the living room. He sets his phone on top of the game cabinet and plays a Celia Cruz album her mom liked.

They work in companionable silence for a while, other than the music, counting all the cards and tokens and jewelry pieces to make sure everything’s accounted for and gets back into its proper box.

As Julie’s wrapping up the Mario Kart controllers, her dad says casually, “You have fun tonight?”

“Yeah,” she says, and finds she means it. “Yeah, you know, it wasn’t quite the same as playing with Mom, but I still had a really good time. Thanks for letting everyone come over.”

“Thank you for being such a good sport about Carrie. I know she wasn’t exactly part of your plan for how the night would go.”

“No,” Julie agrees, shutting the game cabinet. “But I kinda liked having her here. Although—can I ask you something?”

Dad grabs his phone to pause the music. “Of course, mija. What is it?”

Something’s been nagging at her all evening, but now that Julie actually has the opportunity to ask about it, she’s not quite sure how to put her question into words.

Finally, she manages, “When Mr. Wilson first got here, he said something like… like he didn’t know we still had game nights. But I don’t remember him ever playing with us when Mom was alive.”

Her dad doesn’t answer for a really long time. Julie knows him well enough to know she needs not be concerned—her dad, much more than her mom, has always needed to really take his time and think before he says anything, especially anything important. Finally, he sighs and says, “Honestly, mija… I’m not quite sure what to say. It’s not really my story to tell.” He sits on one of the couches and pats the cushion next to him. Julie joins him, hugging a throw pillow as she waits patiently for him to continue.

“Do you remember, when you were really little, Trevor and Carrie used to live with us?”

Julie’s mouth drops open. “What? No. When?”

“Only until you were about six,” Dad explains. “But for a while, we had a house together, the five and then six of us, once Carlos was born. Your mom and I, and Trevor, we all kind of raised you kids together.” He elbows her teasingly. “You used to call Trevor Daddy.”

“I definitely don’t remember that,” Julie says, eyes wide in horror.

His smile fades, face turning serious. “I think Carrie does,” he says softly, and Julie remembers when Carrie first got here tonight, how she called Julie’s dad Papi , so quietly Julie thought she’d imagined it.

“Anyway,” he continues, “before all that, before Trevor was even… Trevor … he lived with your mom and me, and he was going through a really rough time, had a lot of trouble with food because, well…”

“Because food killed his best friends…” Julie realizes.

“We used to play board games with him, after dinner, when things were hard. It kept him distracted, made it easier to keep things down. That was the real start of Molina Family Game Night.”

“Huh,” Julie breathes. “Well then, next time? I want to invite him and Carrie for real.”

--

Taglist: @whenweremarried @sunsethimb0s @pink-flame @penguin0613 @fighttoshine @sunsetcurvecuddles @apples-bees @reggiescrookedteeth @brightattheorpheum @queenmolina @jandthephantoms @lexilucacia @sapphossidechick @acnhaddict @shrimp-colours @sunset-bobby @lenacarstairspotterstewart @conversationaltreestump @burntchromas @shellydominique

[zachvillasource]

interview | zach villa - schonmagazine.com

As the infamous Night Stalker, Iowa-born actor Zach Villa is a chaotic evil in the latest series of American Horror Story. Entitled AHS: 1984, the show plays off the hopes and tropes of the 1980s, incorporating elements from films like Friday the 13th and Halloween into a spine-tingling thrill ride. The chief villain of the series is Villa’s Richard Ramirez, a reality-based serial killer set on making the lead characters’ lives a living hell — quite literally.

In real life, however, Villa is an obvious contrast. A multihyphenate with a strong career across a range of disciplines, he first caught the attention of the mainstream from his collaboration with Evan Rachel Wood in the project Rebel and a Basketcase. Now, as AHS: 1984 keeps audiences around the world thoroughly spooked, Villa opens up to Schön! about growing up in Iowa, his willingness to collaborate with Taylor Swift, and the unexpected call that announced his role on American Horror Story.

How did you get your start in acting?

Well, I’ve been on stage since I was two, so the whole shebang started quite early. Acting, oddly, was an afterthought when I first started. I had been dancing and singing on stage for years, idolising great song-and-dance performers like Gene Kelly, Donald O’ Connor, and Sammy Davis Jr. when it occurred to me that I should probably focus on learning the craft of acting if I wanted to continue pursuing that particular path in the entertainment industry. I had focused intensely on two out of the three “triple threat” disciplines, so I guessed it was time that I figured out the third part. It was an accessory to being able to perform musical theatre roles more effectively, and I guess that backfired in a sense and became a more central focus as I developed.

Iowa isn’t the most common birthplace for a big-time actor. What does your family — and presumably other Midwestern relatives — think of your journey into Hollywood?

They are both thrilled and confused. Don’t get me wrong — my family is very happy for me, and while we have had our spats over the years about whether or not I should be pursuing a highly volatile, financial unstable career, they have ultimately come through and rooted for me and my success.

That being said, I think pursuing a career in the mainstream entertainment industry is a very singular experience. Unless you’ve lived it and hit the pavement in NYC, L.A., etc., it’s very hard to understand the day-to-day struggles of a performing artist. I think that certain regions of the country are — generally — a majority of media consumers as opposed to creators, and there is a disconnect between the public and those of us pursuing an arts career that propagates the fallacy of things being easy and breezy, since you don’t have to get up every day at 6 AM, go to the office, and then come home and make dinner. People see that lack of structure as undisciplined and fancy-free. Let me tell you, it’s anything but. Artists have to hit the pavement in a very different way that is highly varied from day to day, and that uncertainty introduces a unique kind of stress, in addition, to actually trying to be good at your job. I always say that booking work is my “job” as an actor, and when I actually book a gig, that’s where the job ends and the craft and career begins. Translating that to someone without firsthand experience can be infuriatingly difficult.

Where were you when you found out about landing AHS: 1984 and the scope of your role? What did you do?Who did you call first?

I was in the studio recording an audiobook — one of the many ways that this particular actor has been able to supplement their income, and it has been such a gift. I was waiting on the call, and I stopped narrating mid-sentence — much to the puzzlement of my audio engineer — and picked up. I got the news, opened the door of the vocal booth and leaned against the front wall, sliding down to a sitting fetal position, and started to tear up. I called a few close friends and family and walked around for the better part of an hour mildly freaking out. The studio staff secretly went and bought a bottle of champagne down the street, and after I finished my page quota for the day they surprised me with a toast. Then everything in my life became a blur.

Of course, without spoiling anything, what can you tell us about your role as Richard Ramirez in AHS: 1984?

Oh, that’s a very difficult question. Richard Ramirez was a real person. I am playing a character that shares his name and is informed by him and his history. Beyond that, you’ll just have to wait and see.

What was the most memorable moment from shooting the series?

I can’t say my absolute favourite without revealing secrets! But I’ll say that the encounter with the hiker in episode two was quite “fun” — if you can call pretending to murder someone “fun.” The makeup and FX team on the show is the best in the biz, and the blood rig that was used in that scene was just wild. It was messy and crazy, and [there was] high pressure to get it right in one take, and I loved it.

What’s your method for getting into character, both in the weeks and moments leading up to a shoot or performance?

I have to play these cards close to the chest. Some of it is instinct. I just feel as though I am inside the character’s head at some point after spending enough time with the material, but it’s different with each role.

Sometimes I need to know how they sound, sometimes it’s historical research. It’s ALWAYS spending an exorbitant amount of time with the script — that’s the golden rule for me. Whether its Shakespeare or the 200th episode of Friends, you have to start with the text as an actor, and the most minute differences in phrasing, punctuation, word choice, etc. are clues to how this person operates as a human being and in the world. I always come back to the text. Any other secret sauce that I do I’ll keep secret for now.

What’s been the most challenging part of playing a character like this?

I’ll modify the question to ask what’s the most important part of playing a character like this… and that, I think, is being able to let it go at the end of the day — which I don’t always succeed in doing. Sometimes after an intense shoot it takes me a minute to let go of the energy I was carrying around on set. I pride myself on being able to flip in and out, but that is challenging from time to time for me on this particular project.

If you could only watch one film and one television series for the rest of your life, which would you choose?

The Back to the Future Trilogy for movies and Battlestar Galactica for TV. Nerd alert.

Apart from acting (and dance) you’re also well-versed in music. How did you begin as a musician?

The same time that I started hearing it, so very, very early. Growing up with a dance studio attached to your house, you hear a lot of very diverse music over the years. That all seeped into my subconscious, and I was writing full-on symphonies in my head walking through the woods in Iowa when I was seven or eight years old. Mind you, I didn’t have the skills to put that into writing or notation — and still don’t, not for the symphonies anyway.

I learned how to read music by playing the violin in elementary school. I didn’t pick up a guitar or actually start producing original music in any tangible way until my junior year at Interlochen Arts Academy. There, my roommate Filip — a wildly talented self-taught metal guitarist and visual arts student from Macedonia — taught me things here and there, and I also taught myself by ear. The Internet, man.

Who are some other musicians with whom you’d like to collaborate?

St. Vincent. Top of the list. Blink 182 — a childhood dream. Jimmy Eat World. John Mayer but only if he lets me be in his next ridiculous green screen music video. Mac Ayers, Tears For Fears, Snail Mail, and oh, I dunno… Taylor Swift. Come at me.

Who are your biggest musical inspirations? And what have you been listening to lately?

Biggest? That’s tough because it changes with each project. Tower of Power is a huge influence for me. My first band was funk-based, and man, they are so groovy. If you don’t know, now you know go listen to them. St. Vincent. Jimmy Eat World. And, regardless of the drama surrounding this artist from time to time, John Mayer. He really is one of the great guitarists of our generation, and more importantly, the songwriting that he produces is top-notch. I’ve learned a lot from diving deep into his material over the years. Miles Davis, and jazz in general, is huge for me. Brain fuel. Listening lately to Sleater-Kinney’s new record, Knuckle Puck, and a lot of 2000s pop-punk.

What else can we look forward to from Zach Villa — be in 2019, 2020 or later?

World domination.

The track on the video content [for this shoot] is the first single — a tease if you will — of my new solo project. Go check it out. My band Sorry Kyle will be dropping a ton of music over the next few months if you’re into punk and emo.

And that’s just music. Acting-wise, post-AHS I’m waiting to see what comes down the pipe. I’m always creating. I want to be fluid in music, movement, film and TV, directing, etc. There’s no time like the present and the present is, well, now. So hang on tight.  

[idontneednofuckinhug]

My top 20 albums of 2019

As 2019 is in its final month, we're not only about to experience the end of the year, but also the end of a decade filled with amazing music, ground-breaking albums and self-made musical geniuses. We've had some fantastic years, such as 2012, 2014 and 2016 for album releases and this year definitely rivals all of those beforementioned with the quality and quantity of records we had. There was such a great quantity of amazing albums this year that I had to change my original plans of a top 15 list and move it up to a top 20 list, just due to the saturation of projects. Before starting off the list, I'd like to give my honourable mentions to some great albums which would've made the list in quite a few other years: Charli XCX - Charli; clipping. - There Existed an Addiction to Blood; Charles Irwin - Singles (308). I'd strongly advise to check these out as well as the ones I'm about to list off and with that said, let's get going!

20. Solange - When I get Home A project showing her versality, with music ranging from smooth jazz and blues-inspired vibes to Gucci Mane and Playboi Carti features, Solange once again showed a fantastic ear for production and how amazing her voice really is, without putting it in your face and demanding your attention. Instead the album is like a long, carefree day in mid-April, with Solange's voice giving you an amazing vocal experience.

19. Billy Woods & Kenny Segal - Hiding Places Ranking much lower than last year, the underground New-York genius of Billy Woods once again showcases his amazing talent for rough and grimy delivery combined with industrial, eerie production. The project is very personal for Billy, as he gets very real about his fears and anxieties and even takes a spin for the existential as the talented lyricist raps about his mortality, creating a very unsettling and uncomfortable listen, nonetheless keeping you entertained for the whole duration of the album.

18. Blood Orange - Angel's Pulse A much shorter project this year than last year's Negro Swan, Devonte released a very raw mixtape, presented as a radio-cut, with sudden transitions and unexpected topic changes. The tape is presented with very groovy production, creating the feeling of a warm summer day, but Blood Orange does keep close to discussing personal topics about his anxieties, insecurities and political worries.

17.Injury Reserve - Self-Titled Definitely not Injury Reserve's first project, but their official studio-album debut, it really lets the odd trio's strengths shine, with its chaotic production, personal bars and focus on making it out of the regular 9-5 life. Full off innovative ideas, such as the song "Rap Song Tutorial" which is true to its name, the album also includes fantastic features such as Rico Nasty, Jpegmafia and Freddie Gibbs, with its main strength being the difficulties of keeping the balance between being a rapper and a regular person.

16. EARTHGANG - Mirrorland The Atlanta duo's debut-album, Mirrorland is very witty and cheerful, capturing the story of Doctur Dot and Johnny Venus's come up in the ATL. Full of quirky and whimsical ideas, the record really does remind listeners of Atlanta's OutKast, with EARTHGANG's very own personality and spin to it, with very playful bars and captivating singing, beats with multi-cultural inspirations, such as on "Tequila" and banging trap production, the album is a fantastic mirror to the duo's potential.

15. Ariana Grande - thank u, next Carried by the freedom and carelessness of Ariana's voice, thank u, next is an album inspired by her romantic experiences through her life, addressing Mac Miller, Pete Davidson and her need for sexual freedom. The project explores the insecurities she has experienced with herself and acts as an assertion of Grande's confidence in herself as a woman, creating a huge emotional range during the 12 tracks.

14. KAYTRANADA - BUBBA A return to form for KAYTRANADA after a 3 year hiatus, this was an amazing funky and playful R&B project, blessed with fantastic features. The record really does just make you want to dance along and move to the groove, with its defining feature being each song's simplicity, letting the right elements to shine - like in 10% with Kali Uchis with the sexiness of her voice. Don't let the simplicity of the sound fool you, as BUBBA is full of complex production and small elements and samples that you might miss on the very first listen.

13. YBN Cordae - The Lost Boy Another studio-album debut, YBN Cordae really shows an amazing knack for sticky bars and storytelling, backed by the fantastic production of of a team overseen by J. Cole and feature assassins such as Pusha-T and Anderson. Paak. Although occassionally a bit too corny, the project paints a fantastic picture of his persona and puts the light on a young talent, emerging in the mainstream.

12. Ari Lennox - Shea Butter Baby One of the best neo-soul projects in the past few years, Shea Butter Baby really wraps around you with its warmth and nostalgia and brings back fond memories of kicking it back on a couch with your friends. Full of amazing jazz and funk samples, the slow pace and easygoing melodies really put you in a carefree state of mind and create a chilled out vibe.

11. Flying Lotus - FLAMAGRA This might be a difficult album for some, but FlyLo once again shows an amazing talent for creating songs from scratch, with a very psychedelic jazz-funk vibe. Each song telling its own story, with the feeling that each second of the album matters, FLAMAGRA's biggest strength is its spiritual element, giving off an energy that touches your soul, if you grasp deep enough within yourself to feel it.

10. Jpegmafia - All My Heroes are Cornballs Much tamer than last year's Veteran, Jpegmafia's last album has a very experimental R&B feel to it, but that does not mean that it doesn't sound like pure musical chaos. Showing a surprising vocal versatility, Peggy raps, sings and screams, keeping true to his "Fuck PC Culture" bars and nasty punchlines. Each song has a very manic and wild energy to it, with the album sounding like structured anarchy.

9. Free Nationals - Self-Titled A modern take on classic soul and jazz, Anderson. Paak's Free Nationals crafted a very sexy, intensive album, that gives a feel that there's no hurry for anywhere and everything will happen in due course. The sensual record can easily be described as baby-making music and has handpicked seductive features like Kali Uchis, Daniel Caesar and Syd to underline that vibe.

8. Anderson. Paak - Ventura Very much a modern take on a soul record, Anderson. Paak really creates a feel of time-stopping whilst listening to the project's songs. Paak wearing his influences on his sleeve on this one, you can really feel the vibrant melodies and groovy emotions, with the amazing funkiness of Ventura also having a very sensual feel to it, thanks to the thoughtfully picked out features and background vocals.

7. Mereba - The Jungle is the Only Way Out An album that I believe didn't get enough attention, Mereba's latest release is a very conscious R&B project, full of beautiful darkly-toned synths and very slow and jammy folk. The topics range from facing your vices, to the overwhelming emotions of seeing your lover and the self-realization that people's opinion ain't shit. Her voice is absolutely stunning and authentic, with it giving off the feel of her being uncertain and lost with each song.

6. Denzel Curry - ZUU Denzel never misses and this is fact once again - releasing his most dynamic record to date, Zuu goes back to Zel's roots of South Florida. In it he reminisces about his come-up and relationships with his family and friends and the project stays true to its nature with the features being only rappers from the area. Although very party-focused, ZUU has a wide range of songs, with boom-bap, trap, soundcloud rap and even having slower, more introspective jams to it.

5. Rapsody - Eve Eve is a love letter, celebrating the success of the black woman. Rapsody absolutely peaks her musical versatility and rapping potential, crafting an amazing classic hip-hop album, full of creative bars, alluring samples and a very socially engaged range of topics. The record's strengths create a vivid picture of why successful women need to be appreciated and cannot be given enough credit in its impact for the female side of hip-hop culture.

4. slowthai - Nothing Great About Britain A very heavily punk-inspired record, Tyler clashes with the UK's upper class in this project, exploring the difficulties of the everyday life in the UK's working class with cynical and sarcastic bars, full of energetic and grimey production. The topics in the cleverly titled record go into detail about the class bracket gap, widening poverty, political uncertainities and the average briton's arrogance. The album is full of witty jokes and very direct humor and thai does very well to paint the picture of a realistic Great Britain.

3. Freddie Gibbs & Madlib - Bandana Arguably one of the best produced albums of all time, Madlib and Gibbs really pull eachother deep in their worlds and crafted a geniusly produced project. Celebrating black freedom, the record shines on Freddie's talent for grimey and nimble rapping, with him changing cadence again and again, whilst Madlib's gift for erratic production and turning classic jazz and funk songs into off the wall earworms and samples turns this into a spiritual experience.

2. Little Simz - GREY AREA I'm kind of pissed off I put this at number two, just due to how good it is. Simz's coming of age album is a wicked, erratic record full of witty bars, discussion of social themes and goes between grimey, rough production and introspective, jazzy vibes, making for great entertainment. The record is a very open window to her life and the difficulties she's had as a woman and is crafted in such a masterful way, that even if you're not catching the lyrics, you'll feel the album's emotions just by listening to the production.

1. Danny Brown - uknowhatimsayin¿ This project finishes a cycle of Danny for me personally - starting off with his rockstar, crackhead phase with XXX and the consequences of his drug-induced party life in Atrocity Exhibition, his latest project is the maturest face of Danny we've ever seen. Overseen by Q-Tip as an executive producer, uknowhatimsayin¿ is very free-flowing compared to his previous records, topped off with irregular beats and unnerving samples, keeping true to Danny Brown's personality. The project is the culmination of his rap career, as he addresses the need he had to get his life together,get out of the rut he was in and grow up. He uses his cadence and snapiness to make the point of him being grown up, but still being the dude who can do what the fuck he wants.

[83gigsof90semocore-blog]

Post 4: The letter C

Welcome back! It sure wasn't yesterday, how have you been? I'm fine thanks, been a little busy myself and had to put this project on the backburner as you can probably tell. I alluded to being really busy in the last post and that's been pretty much true for all of the past year. Luckily, things are looking a bit better up ahead so I might actually start posting regularly soon!

Much has happened outside of the blog too. I toyed with the idea of moving this beuat over to blogspot (where all the real emo blogs are anyway) when it looked like tumblr was self-destructing for a hot minute. But in the end cooler heads prevailed and it looks like tumblr is just gonna keep existing albeit with less popularity. In the emo world, 125, Rue Montmartre, the first band I covered about a year ago are releasing their discography on vinyl and are now on spotify. All thanks to my blog, I'm sure. Don't be fooled by my modest follower count

I actually have quite a few prestigious readers. Most notably perhaps being Prof. Anders Ahlén, a man important enough to have his own wikipedia page.

C has been the longest letter so far by far clocking in at a mighty 6.56 GB as opposed to the average of 2.8. I've been listening to it in phases with sometimes a month or more in between so it hasn't really been a coherent experience. It has been a real slog though, which is part of why I gave up several times. This has also been a letter with a great number of "famous" emo bands. Because part of the purpose of this listening experience is to experience 90's emo "as it was" rather than colored by nostalgia or what is deemed worthy of attention by the internet discourse I'm disqualifying bands that are prominent in the emo canon from best name, song or image. I will however still do a quick write up on them for those of you not as familiar with emo, chances are I'll reference them in the future so do take notes.

Emo classics

Cap'n Jazz

It's almost impossible to tell the story of 90's emo without Cap'n Jazz. Among their members they have Tim Kinsella, who would later go on to play in Joan of Arc and Owls, his brother Mike Kinsella who would later play in American Football as well as Owls, Their/They're/There and Owen and also Davey von Bohlen who would later play in the Promise ring. When they formed in '89 they where just a bunch teenagers, Mike being just 12. They released their first album 6 years later which goes by the title Burritos, Inspiration Point, Fork Balloon Sports, Cards in the Spokes, Automatic Biographies, Kites, Kung Fu, Trophies, Banana Peels We’ve Slipped on, and Egg Shells We’ve Tippy Toed Over, but is simply referred to as Schmap'n Schmazz by fans. Most of the lyrics where supposedly written by Tim one night while high on mushrooms. They have a wonderful surreal dadaist quality to them with lines such as Hey coffee eyes, you've got me coughing up my cookie heart or You are colder than oldness could ever be. The music is chaotic and full of a warm messy energy. I am personally absolutely enamored with their cover of Aha's Take on me which I insist on putting in as many playlists where it makes some sense whatsoever. As you can hear, Tims vocals do absolutely not Morten Harkets heights (not an easy feat in Tims defense) and you can plainly hear a teenagers voice falseto-cracking and it's absolutely amazing somehow.

Cap'n Jazz really hit the spot of this awkward sensitive yet punk energy that from the start was very central to emo. Although Cap'n Jazz are a big helping sillier and more pubertal than, say, Rites of Spring.

One popular quip about the Velvet underground is the following:

The Velvet Underground didn't sell many records, but everyone who bought one went out and started a band.

I suppose Cap'n Jazz is a bit like that for emo although their presence was perhaps felt as strongest around 2010 with bands such as Snowing, Glocca Morra and in particular Algernon Cadwallader aping their style.

Christie Front Drive

I think part of the reason for Cap'n Jazz's status as a cornerstone band stems from their originality. Christine Front Drive is in contrast a very prototypical 90's emo band. They have a sound that borrows heavily from both post-hardcore and indie-rock with the slightly whiny vocals typical for the genre and era. On their song November they sing Still the same // Fucked for what you've done // Still over // Staged over // November's almost done // Still the same which I think is a nice cross section of their lyrics (most of the rest of the song are just variations on the same words with "remember" also thrown into the mix). The overall sound is slow, moody and a bit dreamy, very typical of their brand of emo. As easy as it is to find bands that sound similar to CFD, I dare say that they did it better than most and that this is what has earned them their spot in the emo cannon.

Cursive

Cursive formed in 1995 and has since been together on and off up to the present day, the drive only has music up to 2005 though. This includes their 2003 release the Ugly Organ which was released by Saddle Creek and is the only one I've heard before starting this project. By that point they had already moved away from their emo roots though, and I'm glad to finally have gotten around to their earlier stuff. The Ugly Organ is artsy, catchy and a bit baroque, but also definitely on the outskirts of emo to the point where I'd perhaps describe it as an indie/alternative album if I wasn't talking about them in the context of emo. This doesn't mean that it isn't worth a listen because it absolutely is. Their early stuff is more typical of what the rest of the drive is like with a sound more in the ballpark of CFD but much more punk, with a higher tempo and angrier vocals while still maintaining a somewhat whiny voice, introspective lyrical content and the cold, big guitar sound typical to this branch of emo.

My favorite band

Car vs Driver

So far I've generally picked bands that stand out a bit because in a long stream of relative sameness, that's what you end up paying attention to. Car vs Driver is however not one of theses bands that stand out but rather pretty typical of the emocore sound. They do it pretty well though. They are undeniably punk, but with more introspective lyrics and a slightly melodic edge, which is exactly how emo was first conceived. One some of their tracks like the featured Without A Day day even flirt a bit more with an alt-rock sound but they also have songs that are a lot more hardcore like Livid Step.

When researching them I half expected them to be a pretty substantial band that I had somehow managed to miss, but they're actually very unheard of, something which I consider to be a shame.

I did however find that the drummer of the band has a blogspot at beyondfaliure.blogstopt.com where he catalogs various bands he's been a part of. There is a collection of Car vs Driver flyers as well as two live recordings and this summary he wrote for their discography

Car vs. Driver began when I was 17 years old. By the time we played our final show, I was 19. This band was the music of my life during a period when people usually experience the greatest amount of freedom, which is what I think of whenever I listen to this music now. There were so many new experiences: living on our own, meeting new people, getting a new perspective on life. Our lifestyle in turn gave us a new perspective on expressing music, and we poured all of our energy and emotion into it. Music that now seems a world away – music from a different life. It’s hard to remember that everything about being in a band at that time was simply making a 7”, buying the cheapest van you could find, and touring the country for the summer. There was no infrastructure to build your music around, which also removed its barriers. Instead of running our band like a corporation, we played peoples living rooms and basements, engaged in kickball tournaments, made record covers out of manila envelopes, slept on top of our van, cooked pasta, and played with some of the most amazing bands in the process. Bands that epitomized the time – like Spirit Assembly, Policy of 3, Friction, Current, The Yah Mos, Assfactor 4, Frail, Hoover, Freemasonry, Scout, and Inkwell. The experience we had is something that could never be recreated, and I consider myself incredibly lucky to have been a part of that moment in time. Thank you Matt, Steve, and Jonathan for bringing this to me.

James Joyce August 2004

This compilation is dedicated to our faithful roadies Ashley Lawrence Moore and William Anthony Nation.

We froze, sweat, bled, argued, and laughed.

Amazing stuff in all, I can highly recommend clicking around their for a while if you, like me are a bit obsessed with the 90's emo scene.

My favorite band name

Christopher Robin

Christopher Robin is a screamo band that go pretty hard. The name is a funny contrast to this and the juxtaposition between childhood nostalgia and angsty screaming works really well.

My favorite picture

Featured is the cover to a demo tape by french screamo band Cather Mathra, which features songs such as Ils M'ont Oubliés (they forgot me) or Leur Révolution (their revolution). You can read more about them on psychoviolence, a blog dedicated to French punk & violence. I think that using a medieval (?) drawing for a cover is pretty cool, especially if you're a french screamo band.

Curiosly they don’t have any music on youtube, you’ll have to check out the drive if you want to listen to them. Tumblr has a limit of 5 embedded videos anyway, so that worked out nicely I suppose.

[futuresandpasts]

Futures & Pasts | MRR #403

My monthly 1000-2000 words in Maximum Rocknroll #403 (December 2016) were given over to: some challenges to the prevailing “it was easy, it was cheap, go & do it”/”get in the van”-style narratives surrounding the performative aspects of involvement in DIY punk, an appreciation of true Portland femme-punk freak inspirations Jungle Nausea, the excellent & tightly-wound contempo Canadian post-punk of Fountain & yet another A+ record from the people who are probably in all of your current favorite bands in Oakland. Read it here, or grab a back issue because print media rules. 

It’s finally my turn to write one of those requisite “my band just went on tour” introductions for my column this month, although it seems kind of weird to refer to an extended weekend of shows that didn’t take us further away than three hours from Portland a “tour”. Micro-tour? Whatever. It’s a constant source of both fascination and frustration to me, as someone in my early thirties who has consistently been booking shows since my senior year of high school (and in three separate American time zones at this point), to observe how so many people in the loosely-defined DIY punk community don’t seem to openly recognize or acknowledge that being in a band that is afforded the ability to tour is actually a really privileged position. It’s one of those things that has been so normalized - you’re in a punk band, you’re going to get in the van and jam econo - that I feel this strange self-imposed sense of competition with my friends who are going on two-week (or longer) tours or even just playing shows here in Portland more than once every other month, since punk social capital is so often tied to visibility and the performative aspects of being in a band, and not everyone is afforded the access or resources to maintain that level of activity. We were practicing and writing songs for almost a year before we set up our first show, which feels like an eternity when framed within the common punk narrative of a handful of people picking up instruments and winding up in the opening slot on some basement gig a month or two later, if that.

Anyway, point being - it’s still incredibly meaningful to me when anyone asks us to play a show in pretty much any context, so to be invited by Osa Atoe (of whom I’ve been an unabashed fan for years) to play the opening night kick-off for the Olympia Zine Fest last weekend was completely fucking unreal. The theme for the show was zine writers who are also in DIY bands, which meant that we got billed with the line “Maximum Rock’n’Roll” under our band’s name on the flyer (speaking of things that are completely fucking unreal), and we played at the public library in front of a neon-lit “TEEN ZONE” sign in the young adult section, in what was essentially the culmination of every dream that I’ve ever had as a punk librarian. Our Portland friends VOG were also on the Zine Fest gig (check out their bass player Corby’s very rad music zine Totally Different Head), so we decided to combine forces to sow the seeds of minimal post-punk and weird hardcore along Washington state’s I-5 corridor for the weekend. It can often be a source of insecurity for me to be an adult lady doing things for the first time that so many of my peers (especially the male-identified ones) have been doing for years now, but between VOG and my bandmates, I couldn’t have asked for a better or more supportive group of people with whom to spend four straight days playing shows and eating late-night Mediterranean food - it’s almost enough to make me completely forget about all of the misogynist assholes and self-serving creeps in my not-so-distant past who constantly filled me with doubt that what I was doing had any artistic or creative value at all. Thanks to the gang for all of the jokes about Temple of the Dog and Frasier in Seattle (and since Seattle), to whomever was responsible for throwing WIPERS’ “Youth of America” on in the diner while we were hanging out in Olympia, to Osa for being a constant source of inspiration, to my oldest friend Charlie for making it so that we could finally play a show together after knowing each other for half of our lives, and to everyone in Portland, Olympia and Seattle who came to hang out. It really does mean a lot. And if anyone in Tacoma wants to hook us up with a show in the future that doesn’t include bands with fucked-up, sexist artwork (we barely dodged that bullet this time), write to me, okay?

On the subject of Pacific Northwest punk past and present, Portland’s late ‘70s/early ‘80s punk and post-punk history has been fairly well-documented and preserved over the course of the past few years - the first handful of classic WIPERS and RATS LPs are back in print, NEO BOYS finally got the reverential anthology treatment that they’ve long deserved, Mark Sten’s sprawling, absurdly thorough (if at times problematic) journal-style chronicle All Ages: The Rise and Fall of Portland Punk Rock, 1977-1981 surfaced last year, and you can even get the crucial 7” from synth-punk mutants COUNT VERTIGO for less than three figures now that it’s been properly re-released. Our city’s foremost femme-punk freaks JUNGLE NAUSEA have finally gotten their long-overdue nod, as local heroes Water Wing Records have just reissued the group’s six-song 1982 EP with the addition of some absolutely killer bonus live material and a lengthy and incredibly illuminating oral history of the band called “The History of Jungle Nausea,” making this thing pretty essential even for all of us true believers out there who have the original 12”. Originally conceived as an “experimental noise band,” JUNGLE NAUSEA incorporated equal influence from the bass-driven, highly rhythmic sound of UK bands like the SLITS, GANG OF FOUR, and the POP GROUP and the improvisational bent of CAPTAIN BEEFHEART, SUN RA and free jazz, resulting in a truly singular and unique take on contorted, art-damaged post-punk that the band describes as their “new concept” to fill the void left in the wake of punk’s drift toward hardcore and its resulting hyper-masculinity. It’s a gloriously chaotic combination of squealing synth, detuned guitars, repetitively elastic basslines, various homemade or household items doubling as noise-making instruments, affectless female vocals, and the clatter of a low-budget drum machine, and I’d honestly put the highs from this record (“Alternative” or “Sympathy,” in particular) into the pantheon of jagged and skittish femme-punk jams of all time. Extra special bonus: “Air Conditioner From Hell,” previously only available in video format via the documentary Northwest Passage: The Birth Of Portland's DIY Culture! (Water Wing, waterwingrecords.com)

I completely missed out on FOUNTAIN’s Fountain 2 cassette when it was first self-released last year, but there’s now a brand new second run of tapes thanks to Seattle’s Good Person Recordings and my copy has been in heavy rotation in my living room boombox over the past few months. Apparently the band is currently in the process of a trans-Canadian relocation from Victoria to Montreal, so I was especially psyched that they made it down to Portland for their second-ever U.S. show (!!) last month while they’re still a West Coast concern, at least for the time being. Like their kindred upstarts PUBLIC EYE or MARBLED EYE on the southern side of the  international border, FOUNTAIN’s tightly-controlled, needling take on late ‘70s minimalist-minded post-punk is just off-kilter enough to retain a sense of human warmth. On “Emerald Dripping Flat,” the combination of tense, angular guitar clang and dual vocalists reciting their lines in tandem with a certain emotionally-distant urgency (turning a simple repetitive chant of “sugar, water, cream, water / sugar, water, cream, water” into the probably most insistent hook I’ve heard all year) is not entirely dissimilar to SPRAY PAINT in execution, albeit with those Austinites’ more darkly agitated no wave tendencies replaced by the sort of frenetically jangling and fractured pop leanings that had infiltrated the genetic code of UK DIY by the early 1980s. The clipped shouts and jittery, kinetic rush of “Venetian Unfolding” are both wiry and WIRE-y, while “V8T3Y6” recalls the raucous, freewheeling art-punk of vintage Rough Trade-era eccentrics like SWELL MAPS - the disarming catchiness of the phrase “car crash, hidden bomb / 39 ways for you to die” could have easily fit right into something like “H.S. Art.” (Good Person Recordings, fountain.bandcamp.com)

From the same brilliant minds who have brought you the WORLD, RAYS, VIOLENT CHANGE, LIFE STINKS, ANDY HUMAN & the REPTOIDS and seemingly every other sick band currently active in Oakland, the debut single from BEATNIKS mines the warped Rust Belt ruckus of the ELECTRIC EELS or ROCKET FROM THE TOMBS, by way of the sort of snotty, primitive Killed By Death-style punk combos that those groups ultimately inspired by the dawn of the ‘80s. There’s likely a number of parallels that could be drawn between the post-industrial decay of the Midwest in the mid-to-late ‘70s and the modern tech-instigated dystopian hell-world of the Bay Area in terms of bleak, seemingly hopeless environs fueling the creation of absolutely whacked-out genius art, so I wouldn’t be surprised if future obscuro-punk scholars view this single through the same lens as Northeast Ohio’s weirdest proto-punk artifacts in 15 or 20 years. Four stripped-down, economical barn burners with a melodic knack tangled up in trebly, pinned-in-the-red guitar lines, anxiety-tinged vocals, and just a little stop/start post-punk choppiness, including an ace cover of the LEAVES’ classic Nuggets-backed garage-rock stomper “Too Many People.” (Goodbye Boozy, soundcloud.com/goodbye-boozy-records)

[weneedtherooks]

100 Questions for your OC! Clara and Friedrich Rosenthal

IT’S SO LONG

1. What do they smell like? Ehhh *nervous laugh* Friedrich probably smells like sweat and dirt all the time. On a clean day, though, probably just soap. Clara does her best to make sure she at least smells clean/presentable. She does own one bottle of perfume, but she uses it sparingly (it was a gift from her friend for her 21st birthday)

2. What is their voice like? Hmmm...I'm not sure where to go with this. I guess Friedrich has sort of the same voice level as Ignis from FFXV? His accent is still a work in progess for me. He's lived in Berlin for a while, but he grew up in Vienna. So I'm not sure how that would pan out. Clara sounds more like Kate Winslet during Titanic.

3. What is their biggest motivator? Their babies! Those kids are their life. They do pretty much everything for them.

4. What is their most embarrassing memory? That one time in 1921 when they spent a week getting blackout drunk and ended up getting pregnant with Kurt :D

5. How do they deal with/react to pain? Friedrich just grits his teeth and bears it. Clara had all seven of her children natural, so she's pretty used to just breathing and pushing her way through the pain.

6. What do they like to wear? Friedrich sticks to pants and an undershirt of some kind. Clara has a couple simple dresses, but she has tailored some of Friedrich's old clothes for her own use.

7. Which of their relationships have impacted them most positively? Primarily, they've impacted EACH OTHER more than anything.

8. What’s the weirdest thing they’ve ever eaten? Trench rats. Nasty little fuckers.

9. Describe the way that they sleep. Friedrich is a huge snuggler, where as Clara tends to spread out a little. They make it work out, usually he'll just drape his arm over her waist area.

10. What is their favorite food/kind of food? Friedrich prefers breakfast/sweet food, and Clara likes soups best.

11. What do they feel most insecure about? Worst for Friedrich is just his accent sometimes getting in the way, but it's a minor triviality. Clara has stretch marks out the ass from having two sets of twins (but those marks are Friedrich's favorite, so she doesn't say it out loud)

12. How do they like to dress? Simplistic

13. How do they react to feelings of guilt? Friedrich tends to get upset with himself over it, whereas Clara pouts for a bit.

14. How do they react to/deal with betrayal? Surprise, pissed off. Friedrich can channel that into hyperfocus on a certain task, Clara tends to stew on her anger and hurt.

15. What is their greatest achievement? Friedrich's is becoming a parent. Clara's is being able to handle her own household.

16. What are they like when they’ve gotten too little sleep? Friedrich is fine, for the most part. Just don't bother talking to him, he doesn't remember how to English when he's really tired. And he's not gonna kill you, the bitch face will soften in time. Clara is almost deathly quiet. Just don't pester her, and she won't bite your fingers off.

17. What are they like when they’re drunk? HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA Friedrich turns into this odd people magnet? Like, EVERYONE WANTS A PIECE OF HIS ASS. And he just chuckles and chuckles about EVERYTHING. Also, please stop smothering Clara in public, even if she is laughing. Clara just gets kind of giggely and bubbley. And finds it absolutely hilarious that Friedrich is trying to make out with her in public. Pls stahp u 2.

18. What kind of music do they enjoy? Clara absolutely adores Jazz music! Friedrich is more into Classical.

19. Are they right or left handed? Both are right.

20. Fears? Friedrich isn't really "afraid" of anything, I suppose. I'm no master of PTSD triggers, but that's usually what gets him. Surprise bangs normally (the severity of the trigger depends on how close it is to him). Can't think of anything for Clara at the moment. Have to get back to that.

21. Favorite kind of weather? Spring and Summer weather is good

22. Favorite color? Friedrich likes yellow. A lot. Clara likes greens and blues.

23. Do they collect anything? Clara has a small collection of odds and ends that she's collected over the years. Friedrich doesn't, though.

24. Do they prefer either hot or cold weather more? Hot, definately.

25. What is their eye color? Clara's eyes are brown and Friedrich's are blue-grey!

26. What is their race/ethnicity? Erm...I guess just white/caucasian? Clara is an American and Friedrich is German/Austrian?

27. Hair color? Clara has pale blonde hair and Friedrich is a dirty blond.

28. Are they happy where they are currently? For the most part, yes. They're close to dirt poor living in the 1930s, they make due.

29. Are they a morning person? Friedrich mostly is, but only because he's able to get up without having too many issues. Clara a little less so.

30. Sunrise or sunset? Friedrich loves the sunrise, Clara loves the sunset.

31. Are they more messy or more organized? Generally organized, but Friedrich kind of has an organized chaos.

32. Pet peeves? Friedrich actually really hates dirt getting under his nails...He's usually picking at them all the time Clara can't stand people chewing with their mouth open.

33. Do they own any objects of significant personal importance? Clara has a tin ring that Friedrich made her during the war. A promise ring of sorts. Friedrich still wears his old dog tags, on account of the fact that he tends to forget his wallet.

34. Least favorite food? Clara: bloodwurst. Hates it. Friedrich: meatloaf. "What's the purpose of a meat loaf? Might as well just shove a pile of ground beef in the oven and call it good."

35. Least favorite color? Friedrich doesn't really like bright pink. He's fine with lighter, softer versions of the color, but why does it need to be bright? Clara doesn't like brown. Tan she's okay with.

36. Least favorite smell? Friedrich hates the smell of mud and gunpowder. Clara doesn't like the smell of raw fish. Makes her sick to her stomach.

37. When was the last time they cried? Clara does somewhat frequently when she's feeling overwhelmed. Friedrich usually does when he gets a really bad case of homesickness.

38. Were they with anybody the last time they cried? Nope. They're usually alone when they do.

39. Tell us about one of the times they got injured? They've seen war.

40. Do they have any scars? See above.

41. Do they struggle with any mental health issues? Friedrich suffers from PTSD.

42. Do they have any bad habits? Friedrich used to drink in the early years after the war. Took an edge off the nightmares.

43. Why might someone dislike them? Friedrich: He's a stubborn ass. Clara: Literally will not take any of your bullshit.

44. Why might someone love them? Friedrich: He's a dertermined and passionate man. Clara: Very patient, willing to work things out with people.

45. Do they believe in ghosts? Eh, somewhat.

46. Is there anyone they would trust with their lives? Outside of each other, they have a set of mutual friends that they would trust.

47. Are they romantically interested in anyone? Um each other.

48. Are they dating/married to anyone? -_- This is what I get for answering a single OC prompt with a couple. Yes, they are married to each other.

49. Do they like surprises? Um, somewhat. Not big flashy surprises or anything, just small things.

50. When is their birthday? Clara's is January 5, 1902 Friedrich's is January 2, 1896 They usually just celebrate their birthdays together on the 5th.

51. How do they usually celebrate their birthday? Friedrich generally makes Germknödel

52. Do they have any family? I'm still hashing out the details on Clara's family (by blood she has 2-3 siblings and one older brother through her adopted mother's second marriage), but I do know Friedrich's! He has two older half brothers (Derrick and Armin) and a younger brother (Erich)!

53. Are they close to their family? Clara didn't even know about her blood relatives, and she doesn't talk much with her older brother. The two of them are close with Friedrich's family.

54. What is their MBTI type? Hmm...I'll have to see if I can find a test for them and see. I'm not super familiar with it.

55. What is their zodiac sign? They're both Capricorns.

56. What Hogwarts House would they be in? Hmm...I'd like to say anywhere between Gryfindor and Ravenclaw. But an exact, I'm not sure.

57. What D&D alignment are they? Generally along the "good" spectrum. They're both a little of lawful, chaotic, and neutral.

58. Do they ever have nightmares? If so, what about? Friedrich gets war nightmares a lot, Clara not so often. Although, her's are a little more detailed that his.

59. What are their views on death? "It happens."

60. What is something that they’re sure to laugh at? Clara will eternally laugh at Friedrich accidentally talking "German-English" (he'll get the sentance order mixed up. he's speaking English, but saying it with German sentance structure). It's basically like me laughing at my mom's spontaneous New England accent; it's not intentional, but it's funny when it slips. Freidrich is mostly when Clara does something very/rather "unfeminine". Turns out faking her gender just stuck (she enlisted in the German army when she was 14, pretending to be a boy), so sometimes she'll forget that doing certain things is seen as "Not Ladylike". Between them both, their kids making up stories always does it. They'll all just sit in a corner and go off and it's the best thing ever.  

61. When bored, how do they pass time? Friedrich whittles crap out of sticks with a knife when he's out. When he's home, he reads. Clara just sews, maybe knits a little if she can.

62. Do they enjoy being outside? Very much, actually.

63. Do they have an accent? Friedrich has a Berlin/Austrian accent.

64. Upon seeing a slice of chocolate cake, what is their first reaction? F-"Where the hell did that come from...?" C-"I wonder who made that..."

65. If they knew they were going to die, what would they do/say? Um...If they knew? Probably just reassure each other that they'll be fine on their own.

66. How do they feel about sex? Hehehehehehehehehehehehe

67. What is their sexuality? Clara is heterosexual, Friedrich is pansexual.

68. Do they become squeamish at the sight of blood? Pfft, no.

69. Is there anything that they find really gross? Maggots. They don't know why, but there's just something about MAGGOTS.

70. Which TV Trope(s) best describes them? Fate brought them together and they're inseperable.

71. Do they enjoy helping people? Yes!

72. Are they allergic to anything? Nope nope.

73. Do they have a pet? Yes, a cat. And it usually avoids Friedrich.

74. Are they quick to anger? What are they like when they loose their temper? Not always, no. Friedrich has a little shorter of a fuse. They either just quietly blow up at either, or hash it out for a couple hours.

75. How patient are they? Clara has a stubborn sort of patience. She's willing to work through things, but she's not gonna stop til it's settled. Friedrich generally is, but there's just some things he has zero patience with.

76. Are they good at cooking? Surprisingly, Friedrich really is. Clara's not so bad.

77. Favorite insult? Do they insult people often? Friedrich generally just calls everything a stupid cunt. Which gets him one of three things: 1. Clara using the "mom voice" on him ("FRIEDRICH ROSENTHAL."), 2. Clara giving him a swift whack on his arm, or 3. getting pinned with Clara's "what did you just say?" look. Long story short, his wife gives him the most shit about it. Clara is pretty mellow, just calls people "idiot" or says "what a pill".  

78. How do they act when they’re particularly happy? Friedrich just whistles a lot, and Clara sometimes gets a little bouncy.

79. What do they do when they learn about other people’s fears? Try to avoid/respect them.

80. Are they trustworthy? Yeeeeesssss

81. Do they try to hide their emotions? Are they good at it? Not from each other, anyway. Clara's pretty good at it, but Friedrich says it all in the eyes.

82. Do they exercise regularly? Friedrich does. He used to be a boxer in the 20s...now he just kind of uses the training joint to stay in shape. Clara got a little into the boxing scene, so she keeps up with her physique as well.

83. Are they comfortable with the way they look? Yeah, pretty much.

84. What are some physical features that they find attractive on people? Friedrich generally likes lighter haired girls, but he's not a huge fan of blondes...Clara makes the exception. Also, he likes guys with dark, slightly long hair. He's not too picky about build. Clara likes guys with brunette or blond hair, especially if they're rocking a light eye color.

85. What kind of personalities do they find attractive? Funny story about that, Clara HATES stubborn men. She likes when they're passionate about things they love. Friedrich is more into patient women who can enjoy life in the hard times.

86. Do they like sweet foods? Friedrich really does! Clara is okay with them.

87. What is their age? During their time in WW1: 1916-1918 (C) 14-16, (F) 20-22 Where I usually talk from: 1936 (C) 34, (F) 40

88. Are they tall or short or somewhere in between? Clara is just a smidge taller than me (5'6"), and Friedrich is 5'11"

89. Do they wear glasses or contacts? Friedrich probably needs glasses (just corrective lenses, nothing major), but doesn't have any.

90. Do they consider themselves attractive? Clara can see herself as being attractive, yes. Takes Friedrich by surprise all the time when people call him so.

91. What is their sense of humor like? Sarcastic, usually. Make the occasional self-depricating joke (mostly on account of their financial situation).

92. What mood are they most often in? Tired and stressed. Beyond that, they're fairly happy people.

93. What kinds of things anger them? Friedrich just doesn't like taking people's shit, and Clara is a fairly level-headed woman. Mostly she just gets frustrated at things.

94. Outlook on life? They do their best to look at things in a positive way, even if negativity is staring them in the face.

95. What kind of things make them sad/depressed? When they don't think they're doing well enough for their family. When people constantly point out the flaws in their household (the ones that they're already aware of).

96. What is their greatest weakness? Their family. It's all they have, please don't harm their babies/spouse.

97. What is the greatest strength? Their endurance, and they've done their best to pass that on to their children (with great success!).

98. Something that they regret? Just that they didn't plan for the future very well. They didn't have seven kids in mind when they chose to start a family, but they wouldn't trade the little boogers for anything.

99. Biggest accomplishment? Clara's restaraunt, but she doesn't actually OWN it until late 1939. She just manages it at the moment (on top of everything else she does)

100. Create your own! UMMMMMMM.........I GUESS SEND ME SOMETHING YOU WANT TO KNOW?

[chevd-blog]

My Top 100 Favorite Albums of All Time (Part 7: 5 - 1)

Here they are, finally: my five absolute favorite albums ever!

5. De-Loused in the Comatorium – The Mars Volta (2003)

              I received De-Loused in the Comatorium as a present for my 20th birthday, shortly after getting my copy of Frances the Mute. From the day I received it, I listened to it on nearly a daily basis for the next two years. Understand, I never do that with one specific album. It was just so uncommonly good that I couldn’t stop myself from going back for more. And even though I no longer listen to it as frequently, it is still just as good as I remember it. This is the album that I most heavily associate with my time at Ringling College, and with working on projects for my computer animation classes. And believe me, I spent a lot of time on those projects—somewhere in the vicinity of 10 to 15 hours a day, 7 days a week. So to say I quickly became intimately familiar with this album is a bit of an understatement.

              De-Loused is a conceptual ode to the band's fallen friend, artist Julio Venegas, who is rendered in the album's narrative as the protagonist, Cerpin Taxt. In short: Cerpin ingests rat poison and falls into a coma, during which he goes on an epic journey of self-discovery in his own mind, with the denizens of his mental landscape being all his own artistic creations. In the end, Cerpin wakes up in his hospital bed in the real world, but his desire to return to his own mental kingdom ultimately drives him to jump from a freeway overpass. Of course, all of this is tricky to discern from the actual lyrics: the Mars Volta's lyrics are notorious for being oblique and abstract, which listeners could easily mistake for being nonsensical if they aren't paying attention and reading between the lines. (Fortunately, sometime after receiving the album, I was able to procure a .pdf of the album's concept in short story format, released by Gold Standard Laboratories; while the writing style was similar, it went a long way toward making the album's lyrics more coherent. And explaining who or what "Moatilliatta" was.)

              But of course, while the enigmatic lyrics did hold their own sort of fascination with me, the thing that really hooked me was the musicality. The Mars Volta offered up an eclectic blend of punk, progressive and Latin rock, and De-Loused was the album that got the formula juuuust right—a smoothie of influences ranging from Santana to the Smiths to Syd Barrett-era Pink Floyd. The intro, "Son et Lumiere", serves as a metaphorical ambulance siren as Cerpin's story begins in situ, then segues into "Inertiatic ESP", with its frenetic waltzing pace, its vintage 70s electric piano riff, and Cedric Bixler-Zavala's repeated wails of "Now I'm lost". As the story progresses to "Drunkship of Lanterns", guitarist Omar Rodriguez-Lopez layers cavernous surf rock licks atop a chugging Latin rhythm, resulting in a track that simultaneously feels haunted and vivified. One of my personal favorites, "Eriatarka", is damn near tantamount to sonic nitrous oxide, with a lilting dreamy melody that never fails to put me into a state of bliss. The album's longest song, "Cicatriz ESP", comes next, starting with a steady rhythm that falls into a serene subterranean pool before exploding into a full-on Latin jazz jam; it was this song that first showed me the true magic behind a well-executed jam session. "This Apparatus Must Be Unearthed" is where the band's post-hardcore roots show through the clearest—a chaotic, fast-paced song that could just as easily have been one of At the Drive-In's more hard-edged offerings, save for its narrative connections to this album. (Also, quick aside: something about the way Cedric's voice sounds while singing "Anonymous, avenge my name" always gives me goosebumps.) And I could go on and on. Ultimately, despite me having some memories and associations tied to it, the main reason De-Loused ended up in my top 5 is simply because of its sheer musicality, which is really impressive. Subsequent Mars Volta albums always made me feel excited, but none of them ever topped this one.

Prime cuts: "Inertiatic ESP", "Drunkship of Lanterns", "Eriatarka", "Cicatriz ESP"

4. Fear of a Blank Planet – Porcupine Tree (2007)

              I have cited several albums on this list as being here chiefly because of associations between them and my move to Canada. If that has gotten redundant or boring, well—I apologize, but it was unavoidable. People have big, important, special moments in their lives, and for me, that was one of the biggest, most important, and special-est in mine. It should probably be pretty predictable, then, that my top five contains a few of these, and that they would be the most prominent examples for me. Fear of a Blank Planet falls into this category. This was the second Porcupine Tree album I obtained, after In Absentia. At the time, it was their most recent album, having come out less than nine months earlier. During my first semester at ECUAD, when I had not yet moved my car up from Florida, I have distinct memories of listening to this album in the mornings while walking by the waterfront along False Creek to my classes on Granville Island, with the beautiful downtown Vancouver skyline on the other side of the water. "Anesthetize", being around 17 minutes long, used to go quite a way toward getting me to my destination.

              Later, as I came into my own as a fine artist, Fear of a Blank Planet became (along with Riverside's Anno Domini High Definition, as mentioned earlier) a major point of inspiration for my work. One of the most polished works to come out of my time at Emily Carr, and the one that may have been most predictive of my later trajectory as an artist, was a large two-panel painting which I called "Blank Planet", as an homage. The album was a perfect summation of my thematic focus on the prevalence of technology in the 21st Century. If the title seems familiar, it's because it was itself a bit of an appropriation from Public Enemy's 1990 recording Fear of a Black Planet; as Steven Wilson has explained, the album's main drive is addressing the major current issues of technology and alienation, in the same way that Public Enemy had addressed the issue of race relations. In Porcupine Tree's case, the songs specifically describe the experience of younger Millennials, who have come of age never knowing a world without the internet, Ritalin, and constant media bombardment.

              The truly astounding thing here is just how palpable the apathy is throughout the entire album, while at the same time being very emotionally affecting. It all begins with the fantastic 9-minute title track, told through the eyes of a detached bipolar adolescent whose claims include "XBox is a god to me", and "my mother is a bitch, my father gave up ever trying to talk to me". The next track, "My Ashes", is a slower, softer song that draws lyrically on the Bret Easton Ellis novel Lunar Park. But of course, it's the aforementioned "Anesthetize", which contains a stellar guest solo from none other than Rush guitarist Alex Lifeson, which truly dominates the album, and demonstrates Porcupine Tree's continued foray into heavy metal. The guest appearances continue with "Way Out of Here", as King Crimson's Robert Fripp contributes ambient soundscapes while the album's tone grows noticeably darker. Finally, the album ends with the electronic droning of "Sleep Together", which I can only describe as resembling what it might sound like if Radiohead and Nine Inch Nails collaborated on a cover of Led Zeppelin's "Kashmir". All in all, while In Absentia receives the lion's share of the recognition from Porcupine Tree's discography, it is Fear of a Blank Planet which is my pick for my absolute favorite of their albums.

Prime cuts: "Fear of a Blank Planet", "Anesthetize", "Way Out of Here", "Sleep Together"

3. Silent Alarm – Bloc Party (2005)

              So what memory of mine can top moving to Canada? Well, the answer is simple: those first few trips to British Columbia, where I got to meet my friend Laurie in person after over two years of communicating exclusively online. She was one of the biggest reasons I was able to survive my time at Ringling without breaking under the pressure. Through all of the project deadlines and disappointments and the otherwise lacking social life, I always had her, encouraging me to keep going. While the two of us ultimately settled into a very happy and very close platonic relationship, at the time, I have to admit, I was quite infatuated with her. Why wouldn't I be? There was an incident once, during a moment of weakness, where I was considering suicide, and she stopped me by calling my house in Florida at 4 AM. Nobody, save for my parents, had ever cared about me in such a way. And so, in December of 2006, when I finally got the opportunity to visit her and spend time with her, of course I was excited. We chatted in my hotel room, and she showed me her neighborhood, and drove me around Vancouver in her old Pontiac Sunfire. And I remember vividly what was playing on her stereo: her copy of Silent Alarm Remixed. That was my first exposure to Bloc Party.

              When I returned to Florida after that first trip, I bought the original version of the album, and it ended up in heavy rotation in my own car stereo for that final semester at Ringling. Admittedly, as I've already mentioned, my first trip to BC did not go quite as smoothly as I had hoped—partially because of the culture shock, and partially because she didn't quite feel the same about me as I did about her. But we remained close friends, and I was willing to try again. When I returned for two weeks the following summer, after my time at Ringling had come to an end, the experience was incredible. No, beyond incredible—they were two of the most important and special weeks in my entire life. That was the trip that finally convinced me to actually commit to moving there. And I suppose Silent Alarm came to symbolize the whole thing for me; it was a new experience for me, one that had been completely unknown, and which represented a new sensibility that didn't really seem to fit my old life in Florida. I was 21, and as "Banquet" put it, I was "becoming adult".

              What makes Silent Alarm all the more impressive, beyond just its great significance to me as the background music of the most seismic shift in my life, is its sheer vitality. For a debut album, it really was as tight as it could possibly be. The chemistry of Kele Okereke's thickly-accented Londoner vocals, Russell Lissack's guitar, Gordon Moakes's bass, and Matt Tong's frenetic drumming resulted in an album that felt unusually charged with electricity. Songs like "Banquet", "Helicopter", and "Like Eating Glass" took a page from the punk playbook without getting mired in the usual trappings of punk. I still can recall that Laurie's favorite was the final track, "Compliments", a sparse, gently humming song that ended the album on a very laidback vibe. When I made the remark about diminishing returns with Bloc Party (waaay back when I was talking about #90 on my list, the band's album Four), this is the point from which they were always subsequently diminishing. This is the high-water mark. And in all fairness to the band—it's kind of difficult not to fall into that pattern when your starting point is already so exceptional and vibrant.

Prime cuts: "Banquet", "Helicopter", "Like Eating Glass", "The Price of Gas"

2. Lateralus – Tool (2001)

              Lateralus was not my first Tool album. That distinction belongs to their first full-length album, Undertow. But Lateralus was the first one to really speak to me from an elevated plane, even before Ænima. Undertow brought the heaviness— I think of it almost as a lead weight in sonic form— but it honestly didn't sound a whole lot like the progressive mainstay that Tool eventually became, and which I came to love dearly. Early on, as I've already said, no band was quite as fundamental in my musical tastes becoming what they are as Tool was. And this is the album where they really came into their own. If Undertow was a lead weight, Lateralus was a clarifying light.

              On the strength of the single "Schism" and its delightfully perplexing music video featuring contortionists in blue-grey body paint, I bought Lateralus the day it was released: May 15, 2001. I was 15 years old. For some time, I nicknamed it the "rain album", because (I kid you not) for the first several months, whenever I would listen to it, by some strange coincidence, it always seemed to bring a storm shortly afterward. I loved everything about it. From the amazing Alex Grey anatomical transparencies in the liner notes, to the strange time signatures and the mystifying lyrics— it grabbed hold of my soul in a way that no other recording has, before or since. From the opening of "The Grudge" to the very last notes of "Triad", and even the bizarre Art Bell radio-show-prank-phone-call-from-Area-51 which constitutes "Faaip De Oiad", Lateralus is an intensely spiritual experience for me. This is my Bible, my Bhagavad Gita. And it has served me well over the years, through the creation of artwork, and studying for exams, and unpleasant dental procedures. (No, seriously, I highly recommend trying this album while pumped full of nitrous oxide. There's nothing like it.)

              "Schism" might be what brings you to the show here, but the two-track suite "Parabol/Parabola" is what keeps you listening, with its poignant message about living in the present and not taking the precious gift of life for granted. The album's closing trilogy of "Disposition/Reflection/Triad" offer another high point, with the second song being the main focus. "Reflection" is not only the longest track on the album, but one of its most divinely beautiful as well, with its Hindustani-influenced drumming and sarangi accented by an electronic drone. But of course, the main centerpiece of the album is the title track, "Lateralus", often cited as one of the greatest metal songs of the 21st Century so far. At nearly nine and a half minutes long, the song's true brilliance lies in its vocal delivery and time signature both being structured around the Fibonacci sequence; the lyrics about "spiraling out" are somehow all the more meaningful when woven into a tapestry whose very fabric is literally the arithmetic behind spirals. For someone like me, who absolutely cannot exist without thoughtful, cerebral music, this is the album that I hold as the gold standard for everything else.

Prime cuts: "Schism", "Parabol/Parabola", "Lateralus", "Reflection"

1. Grace for Drowning – Steven Wilson (2011)

              And then there was one. Of course the list ends right back where it began back at #100, with a Steven Wilson solo album. His second solo effort is probably not the most popular choice out of his body of work, but I don't care. In my view, it's criminally underrated. It's absolutely, hands down, my favorite album of all time. No additional thought required.

              So what's so damn special about Grace for Drowning, that I rank it above even Lateralus? Well, the simple quantity of music is a good place to start. Grace for Drowning is a two-disk set; the first disk contains the majority of the album's tracks, while the second disk is dominated by the monstrous 23-minute behemoth titled "Raider II", as well as a few smaller compositions like "Index" and "Track One". Around the time of the release of Grace for Drowning, Wilson had caused a bit of a stir by mentioning his boredom with continuing to pursue Porcupine Tree's previous heavy metal style, and his unabashed admission that he was listening to much more freeform jazz than hard rock. For some listeners of Porcupine Tree, this was discouraging, particularly because it seemed to telegraph that Steven Wilson really might be serious about being done with his old band. However, in listening to Grace for Drowning, I simply cannot mourn for Porcupine Tree, because Wilson's solo music is every bit as masterfully composed, with quite a bit more freedom to really experiment with new styles without the pressure of preconceived expectations. The end result was not something that pandered to fans, but instead a tremendously courageous and seductive blend of jazz jams and prog rock, with flute and sax sections provided by longtime PT collaborator Theo Travis. It was a true piece of artwork, made all the more miraculous by its emergence amidst a 2010s pop music landscape that is incredibly hostile to such heady endeavors. (*cough* Dubstep. *cough*)

              But then, beneath the veneer of long jam sessions and rock guitars, at his heart, Wilson is a master craftsman of pop as well. "Deform to Form a Star" demonstrates this well, as do "No Part of Me" and "Postcard", a sentimental melody that reeks so much of self-deprecating despondency that it might as well be my personal anthem. Meanwhile, Wilson's penchant for creating eerie and subtly unsettling music shines through on "Remainder the Black Dog" and the instrumental "Sectarian", where dramatic choral arrangements and Travis's diabolical saxophone produce some of the album's most stunning moments of tension. "Index" keeps the tension intact on the second disk, with its lyrical content detailing a fastidious collector whose obsession with adding to his collection ventures dangerously close to creepy and stalker-ish.

              And then, "Raider II" comes on, and all of the unspoken menace that has been slowly building and bubbling under the surface erupts into full effect. How could it not, in an epic song inspired by Dennis Rader, the notorious Kansan serial killer more commonly known as the BTK Strangler? The intro begins with a simple piano passage on the low end, with a clarinet joining in to add some treble; in between, there are long pauses for several seconds at a time, where it could be said that Wilson is playing the anxious silence itself like an instrument. The vocals begin quietly at around a minute and a half into the song, with the intro going quiet one last time before exploding with full fury just before the three-minute mark. The next four minutes cycle through the verses, a few unexpected death growls, and a beautiful flute solo from Travis. Then there's another short lyrical passage, before the unhinged guitar solo, which segues into a smooth saxophone solo. At eleven minutes in, the guitars return with a vengeance, and then recede again into the reverb, leaving a disquieting stillness in their wake. Out of the silence the song catches its second wind and emerges again with a jangly guitar melody, over which Wilson evokes disturbing metaphors for the serial killer's mentality: "A cat among the crows, I'm raider / The butcher and his prose". Finally, the song winds down with a chaotic ensemble, its ever-increasing tempo finally culminating in a single sustained blast of disorder, with two minutes of slow bass and guitar to pad the ending. And after such a harrowing rollercoaster ride, the album ends gently on the palate cleanser, "Like Dust I Have Cleared from My Eye".

              In summary, Grace for Drowning is my favorite album, probably because of the wide emotional range it exemplifies. There are parts of the album that are peaceful and delicate, parts that are achingly sad and wistful, parts that are laidback and mellow, and of course, parts that are incredibly dark and sinister. There is ample expressive complexity and splendor here, for those who can appreciate it. And there is heaviness here, too, in a way that doesn't rely on the metal clichés of Wilson's past. Overall, a phenomenal album, and one that likely won't soon see a challenger for its title as my favorite of all time.

Prime cuts: "No Part of Me", "Postcard", "Remainder the Black Dog", "Raider II"… fuck it, the entire album.